Love Thine Enemy
by writer writing
Summary: Kid Cole is enlisted by the Texas government to redeem five captives of the Comanche. The tribe's fierceness is legendary. It practically goes off without a hitch except for one problem: Sister Ruth, one of the captives, refuses to go back with him.
1. Chapter 1

The locals called it a "Comanche Moon". It was when the moon was full and put out such a light in the dead of night that no man, woman, or child was safe in their beds. The Comanche warriors swept through Texas in raids that brought death, and if you were lucky, or rather not so lucky, it brought slavery of the worst kind.

Sister Ruth couldn't sleep and pulled the thin shawl around her chemise tighter and shivered. She had no gun with which to protect herself or even four walls. She relied on the Lord God Almighty as she traveled through the land with only her Bible and a covered wagon.

She had imagined them descending on her so many times after hearing the stories that when she saw the Comanche on the horizon for a moment she believed they were a mirage.

Their bronzed skin shone in the moonlight like polished copper. Their horses stamped their hooves and snorted on the crest of the hill as if they were as impatient to kill as their riders. The high-pitched yells they made were terrible as if they came straight from the pits of hell.

She could only drop to her knees and pray as she heard the galloping horses and felt as they encircled her, but she kept her eyes closed and her lips moving in silent supplication.

She shuddered when one of them jumped down, moccasins hitting the earth softly, and drug a hand across her cheek. She couldn't be called a maiden as a woman in her late thirties, nor would she call herself a great beauty, but that didn't seem to matter. He had his mind intent on wicked things, and as she opened her eyes, she saw he was not the only one. They were bent on domination and taking women was one more way they could do it.

She was not their first victim of the night. She knew because one of them gripped his side where a Texan had shot them.

"Lord be praised," she said, lifting her eyes heavenward. She could at least stall. She motioned toward the warrior. "I can help."

She didn't know if any of them spoke English, but they understood her meaning, and a couple of them brought the man to her cot beside the campfire.

The bullet was still lodged in his side but visible. She wasn't stupid. If their warrior died likely so would she, and she had nothing with which to dig it out. It would be better just to leave it in.

Using her sewing needle and one of the hairs on the tail of her horse, she set to sewing it up. She felt his forehead when she finished. It was as she expected, hot to the touch. Oftentimes, fever killed more than the gun wound.

She may have been a faith healer, but she also believed the Lord gifted the earth with herbs for a reason, and she always had some on hand. She took the time to fix him tea and had him drink, never ceasing to murmur prayers.

Loudly with a hand in the air and a Bible in the other, she prayed over the warrior one more time. "Lord, You are the sustainer of all life. Of the Indians as much as anybody. Save this man's life and bring him healing that Your glory may be seen. In Your Son's name, I pray. Amen."

She was a little surprised they seemed to respect her prayer, not doing anything until she had finished praying. They then retrieved their friend, putting him back across his horse.

She expected a tiny bit of gratitude. Instead, she was grabbed by her loose hair and thrown across the closest warrior's horse, the pain of which made her eyes and scalp sting. She somehow managed to keep a grip on her Bible during the capture.

At least she had managed to avoid their earlier intent, but had she really escaped their planned abuse or only delayed it?

sss

"The Comanche are a bitter and vengeful people. They want revenge against Texas." The Texas Ranger stroked his slicked mustache.

"Why?" Kid Cole asked. He was still wondering why he'd been asked to meet with the man at the sheriff's office. He wasn't a Texan just a drifter with a powerful reputation.

"We learned from the captive brought to a peace treaty about the merciless torture they inflicted on her."

"I heard about that. It was inhuman what they did to that poor girl."

"Exactly, and we found out there were more just like her in their camps. They lied about them being sold to other tribes, so they could get ransom for them later. We attempted to hold their chiefs until the rest were brought, but that didn't go over well with such a savage people. Instead of peace, the meeting ended in bloodshed as they tried to escape. We had no choice but to kill them, and they killed a few of our people as well."

"And now their warriors are taking it out on the settlers."

"You got it. We learned five more were captured last night. No men, of course, they're generally killed on the spot, but there's three children and two women. One is a faith healer who travels around doing revivals."

"A woman alone in this part of the country..."

"I know. She didn't stand a chance. They need to be rescued, however. Not only is it our Christian duty, but if we don't subdue them, Texas is never going to grow. People won't want to move to such a dangerous country."

"No doubt. As sorry as I am to hear all this, I'm wondering though what you want with a simple gunfighter. Aren't there plenty of Rangers to accomplish the task?"

"There are, but we think you're the man for the job. It's dangerous what we're asking you to do, but we're giving into their ransom. It should be a quick exchange. You give them money, they give you the captives. Will you do it?"

"I can't turn my back on women and children if you think I'm their best chance."

"We believe so. One man will be less intimidating to them than a group of Texas Rangers. I hate to give into their demands, but the lives of civilians are more important, and the mayor agrees, which is where the funds came from. And if they turn on you, your quick reflexes should get you out of there. In that case, grab who you can if you can and wing as many Indians as possible in your escape."

Details were exchanged, and Kid pulled his hat down against the searing southern sun as he left the office. He had a gut feeling that it was not going to be easy, not by a long shot.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Details are borrowed from the stories of real-life captives of the Comanche.**

If Ruth expected the morning light to make the Comanche seem less fearsome, she was sadly disappointed. The bold black stripes of their war paint made them look all the more unsettling. Even the horses wore war paint. She could also better see that the men wore only their breeches, which embarrassed her to no end, and she tried to keep her eyes adverted.

The women and children gathered around to greet the returning warriors. The little boys were as naked as jaybirds, but the little girls were covered. Some looked at the new captives curiously, however, most looked unfriendly.

Now in their camp, she was jerked down by the handle her hair made. She had never realized before what a liability long hair was.

She did a double take when she saw the man that had pulled her down. He was wearing a corset, her corset as a matter of fact, part of the spoils from the raid. She supposed they hadn't found much else to take from her other than her horses, which they had helped themselves to. The sight of an Indian warrior in a lady's undergarment would have made her laugh if this situation would've had any humor.

She wasn't the only captive from the night. A Nordic beauty with light hair, light skin, and light eyes was also pulled down. She was a stark contrast to her captors. Her hair was down and tumbled and her dress torn. Ruth tried to smile at her to communicate everything would be okay, but the woman appeared not to see anything in front of her, a captive not only in body but in mind.

She'd been taken before Ruth had, and she could only imagine the evils done to this poor lady to produce the unseeing gaze and to ignore the three towheaded children near her that were obviously her children.

One of the Comanche women pulled a flaming stick out of a cooking fire and used it not only to get the blonde woman's attention but actually burned her with it, using it to prod her like cattle toward one of the teepees.

Ruth moved to help the woman though what she could do against so many she didn't know, but her corset-wearing friend still had her by the hair and pushed her inside one of the teepees his own self.

She feared what waited for her inside the darkness of the tent, but there was only an elderly Comanche woman.

Her braids were more gray than black, and her face was lined with wrinkles that didn't look put there by smiles and laughter. It was hatred that glittered from her cold, black eyes, or at least resentment when she saw Ruth. The older woman was surrounded by herbs, furs, quills, feathers, and bones. She must have been some sort of medicine woman though what the objects were used for she couldn't imagine.

The medicine woman argued with the warrior presumably because she didn't want to take her, and he wanted her to take her. She didn't understand their language, but it was very guttural, sounding as harsh as the people themselves were.

It was why when he finally spoke English, it practically made her jump out of her skin. "You stay. You teach, Quanna."

He left, and Quanna spit at her feet. It was a universal sign of disgust and dislike for the person in question. It wasn't the first time she had been spit at. She was no stranger to the saloon because the saloon was no stranger to the sinner, but it came with mannerless men, who were often none too happy about her presence.

She jumped when Corset-man, as she'd named him for lack of knowing his name, returned with deerskin clothes. He slung them on the ground and was gone again.

Quanna pointed at them, wanting her to put them on.

She looked down at her chemise and then held up the outfit. The Indian dress would only come to her knees, but it would end up being more modest with the matching knee length boots. There was also the fact that the material wasn't see-through like her chemise was in the light of day. Ruth put it on over her current wear.

Her heart suddenly began to beat wildly with excitement despite the fact that she was surrounded by perhaps the most violent people in the Americas. He had said teach. She had often prayed to the Lord about the Indians. She had not taken them the way of salvation or brought them healing because she didn't know how to, not because she didn't care about their souls. Was this the Lord's answer to her prayer to place her in their midst?


	3. Chapter 3

Quanna stuck out her hand, which was stuffed full of dried meat.

Ruth had almost forgotten she hadn't had breakfast, but her stomach rumbled at the sight of food, and she took it gratefully. "Thank you."

It tasted like buffalo. It wasn't the tastiest of meals, not being fresh, but it supplied needed sustenance and that was the main thing. She couldn't help noticing the lack of vegetables or fruits despite it not being winter, but these people were not farmers. They were nomadic. She got the impression they ate meat a lot.

The work started as soon as she had finished. Though no English passed between them, Quanna made herself understood, pointing to an empty water bag made from the stomach of a buffalo if she had to guess. Maybe from the same one she'd just eaten. Quanna wanted her to fill it up.

She had noticed the stream behind the camp and went and filled it. Quanna motioned for her to follow her to another tent. Apparently she was going to be her assistant from now on.

Ruth prayed a grateful prayer. It was surely an act of the Lord that her work hadn't been of an uglier nature. And despite Quanna's apparent perpetual sour expression, she hadn't behaved violently toward like the woman with the fire.

sss

Kid reached their camp site without incident.

"My name is Kid Cole. I bring the ransom," he called, not daring to enter without their permission though no doubt they knew of his presence long before he'd said a word.

One of the men greeted him and led them through their row of teepees. And though Kid's hand hovered at the ready, he was expected, even welcomed a person might say. Though revenge might have been a factor in their actions, they wanted goods, or they wouldn't have put out the word that there were captives they would give for cash before the sun had even risen.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a striking woman carrying a bag of water, trailing behind an older Indian woman. It was hard not to stare. He'd never seen a white woman in Indian garb before, but it became her, and he hadn't seen a grown woman with pigtails before either but that became her as well. Her thick auburn braids reached her waist and her blue eyes sparkled with a light that didn't communicate defeat at all.

He would have mistaken her for one of the captives from last night except that she didn't look in need of rescue. She looked content. Maybe the stories of the Comanche's treatment of their prisoners had been grossly exaggerated. Although, the more likely conclusion was that she'd had a lot of time to assimilate and had been adopted into the tribe.

His escort gave a knowing smirk. "Pretty? Know?"

"No. I mean yes. Where are we going?"

He gestured toward a prominent teepee. Most of the teepees were plain with no decoration of any sort, but this one was painted with various symbols in earthy tones, signaling it belonged to an important person.

A very middle-aged man with braids as long as the woman's he'd just seen sat cross-legged on the ground. The escort pointed to the ground, so he joined the man who must have been the Comanche chief.

The chief held out a long wooden pipe with feathers and strips of hide for him to smoke after drawing a puff himself. It was a sign of peace.

He took the pipe and smoked. He wasn't sure what he was smoking, but it didn't have the strong flavor of tobacco, at least not entirely. It was some sort of herb, but it had a pleasant smell.

He noticed the chief swallowed the smoke on his turn instead of exhaling it. He tried it too so as not to offend and found it easier than he thought. It didn't cause him to cough like he thought it would like a cigarette would have.

The chief spoke though the escort, who served as an interpreter. "You have the money?"

He pulled out the wad of paper bills. "I do.'

"This will buy food and blankets for winter?" Both men eyed Kid suspiciously, expecting a trick though they smoked the pipe of peace. They must have thought white men always lied.

"And then some."

"Bring captives," the chief ordered the other man.

A blonde woman and three blonde children were brought in. The woman was weeping tears of relief. "Thank you, kind sir. I couldn't have withstood another minute here."

It was hard not to boil over with anger. The woman had burn marks and emotional scars that went deeper than the physical markings, but he had to stay in control or the proceedings would quickly go south.

"This is only four. I was told there was five. Where's the fifth one?" Kid asked. The only sign of his anger was that his voice dropped an octave. If they'd know who he was, it might have been enough to make them grab their bows.

The interpreter answered for the chief, pulling up the tent flap and pointing to the woman from before. "She will be next eagle doctor. She stay."


	4. Chapter 4

Kid wasn't sure what an eagle doctor was, but he wasn't about to return with only four captives. "Can I talk to her?"

"Yes," the chief said, "but she stays."

He nodded though he was far from agreeing. He would sneak back in the night to rescue her. He just had to make her aware of his plans.

To the lady who'd just been brought in, he said, "Don't worry. I'm going to talk to her real quick to make sure she's alright and then we'll go."

She nodded though it was clear even one second was a second longer than she wanted to remain.

He went outside and the translator followed and translated to the medicine woman, who looked annoyed to be interrupted. She acquiesced to letting him speak to her with a wave of her hand that showed how little she cared about the woman working for her.

He took the captive by the elbow and moved her out of hearing of the translator and said in hushed tones, "I'm going to get you out of here." He worked hard to keep his eyes on her face and not her fantastical outfit and more specifically her leather-encased legs, but his breathing was heavy because he was working hard to fight the attraction.

"I don't want out of here," she said softly but firmly.

He felt as his mouth dropped open. He didn't even care that a fly could buzz into it. "What? Why?"

"It's a chance to teach them about God. His book. They are interested in how I heal."

He had surmised she was the faith healer, but he was in a state of shock. "Are you crazy? Do you know what they did to that woman in there? They raped her. I can tell. More than one man and multiple times." He didn't hold anything back because he wanted her to understand what they were like.

She hung her head. "I know. I suspected as much myself. She probably watched her husband die, too. I know it's a small comfort after what she's been through, but let her know she's in my prayers."

"I ain't known a captive yet that they didn't treat abdominally unless they became one of them, which means leaving your faith behind. They're cruel. Do you know they burned her? And you've heard about the sixteen-year-old girl that was brought to the peace treaty? Not only did they defile and violate her as a woman, they mutilated her face. They lopped off her nose."

Despite the fact that she visibly shuddered, she asked. "How can you expect a people to behave with Christian morals if they don't know Christ?"

It was a fair question. "I guess I can't."

"And I aim to teach them for the sake of their souls and for the glory of the Lord. God loves the Comanche as much as any white man."

He couldn't argue with that either, and he even her admired her for wanting to stay, because that took some kind of bravery, but the dangers of a woman staying alone here were too many. "Let a man missionary come then."

"Why when I'm here and willing? I'm not sure that a man could anyway given their culture. This is an opportunity given by God. It's a woman's job."

He was getting frustrated. "You are a slave here. Don't you understand that? Even if you have somehow been accepted as one of them, which doesn't happen often with grown women I might add, do you think your life is your own? That you can say, 'Alright see you later,' and you're just going to waltz on out of their camp when you're done ministering."

"I'm aware the job might become life-long." The captive family had come out of the teepee. The children trembled though the day was not cold. Sympathy for them softened her features and made her look even more lovely. "Why don't you get those poor people out of here instead of standing around and having a fruitless argument with me?"

He should leave before the Comanche changed their mind, but he would be back tonight just like he'd planned. And he would take the foolish woman out of here the way she came in, by force, before she got hurt or killed.


	5. Chapter 5

Kid cringed as a dry leaf crunched under his boot that he hadn't seen. He knew then why Indians wore moccasins; it would have muffled the sounds a whole lot more.

The moon was still mostly full but clouds made the light almost nonexistent, which was made it good for slipping in under the cover of darkness but bad for finding the right teepee.

No one stirred. He was surprised there were not any watches posted especially over the numerous, high-quality horses, but the who would be stupid enough to sneak into a Comanche camp alone in the middle of the night? Him. That's who.

It would have been so much simpler if that woman would've had the sense to meet him at the edge of the camp.

He knew enough about Indians to know that a medicine man or woman was important enough to also have a painted teepee. He could rule out the one he'd gone in today, so that left two others.

One had symbols of arrows and was likely a warrior's tent. He crept to the other. There was an eye. Or at least, he thought it was an eye.

He couldn't just walk through the flap. The medicine woman would sound the alarm. He'd have to make his own way in. Going around to the back of the tent where it was more deserted, he took out his knife to cut. He'd only made a gash a few inches long in the tanned skin when he got a prickly feeling on the back of his neck.

He looked back and dropped the knife. A group of Indian men surrounded him looking none too happy.

He turned to face them, knowing he was done for. One of the wicked-looking lances in their hands was going to be driven right through his chest.

"I came to see the woman prisoner, not to hurt anybody." The words of English might have been falling on deaf ears, but he wasn't the one in the wrong here. Maybe they would get the gist of it.

"You smoke pipe of peace, but you want war."

He was relieved to see the translator. "No, I want peace, but I want that white woman, too. She's alone here among strangers. She deserves to be with her own people."

The white woman in question came out of the tent. It was a small comfort that he had been right about her location. He averted his eyes because she was in her chemise though there probably wasn't the need to play the gentleman, since this was most likely his last few moments on Earth. "You," she said.

He looked toward her as it would be rude not to, but he kept his eyes downcast. Unfortunately, it wasn't much help. Though she had wrapped herself in a buffalo robe, her feet and calves were enticingly bare. However, if this was the last thing he'd ever see, he couldn't complain too much.

"I had to come, ma'am, despite what you said. You should go back inside. No telling what they'll do now." A lady shouldn't have to witness his likely graphic death. Comanches were known for their creative ways of killing a person.

She looked to the man he'd recognized as the translator. "Tell them he wants to join the tribe. That's what we talked about after he met with your chief. That's why he's here. He wanted to ask me again to plead his case. He won't give up."

Kid stared at her, unblinking.

"Take off your gun belt," she hissed, just loud enough for him to hear.

It snapped him out of his shock, but he was reluctant. It was his only line of defense. However, he saw the futility in trying to shoot them all. He could take out a few and die or he could hope for the best by going along with this idea. He would still probably die, but it was less definite than the first option. He unhooked the belt, and the weapon and belt fell with a thud.

"Is this true?" The translator looked at him suspiciously. It's not that they cared about race. They adopted whites all the time into the tribe, but they were children or women who became slaves or part of the harem. It was practically unheard of to adopt a grown white man because he could not be trusted.

"Yes. You live a freer way of life. I envy it." If he could be accepted into their group, not only would it save his life, but it would allow him to keep an eye on the crazy woman and convince her to leave with him.

The men had a discussion amongst themselves for what seemed like hours but really it was only minutes.

"If you act as a warrior, we will let you stay," The translator said at last. "If you act the coward, you die." .

Kid understood well enough. He would be expected to accompany them on one of their raids and murder unsuspecting folks in their bed. He had to convince her fast.


	6. Chapter 6

Kid slept the night in a warrior's tipi. He had a feeling neither one of them got much sleep for worrying about the other.

That morning found the most of the gathered around the iron kettles outside. They apparently ate as a community or starved as the case could be.

He saw the captive, who didn't seem to know she was a captive, standing and waiting her turn for her breakfast. He sidled up beside her and said, "Hope you like buffalo. They eat a lot of it around here, I'm told."

"So I've noticed." She turned to look at him and her cheeks went a flaming red. She was affected by the sight of his bare chest. It brought a smile to his face. It was nice to see that the physical attraction wasn't one-sided.

"Sir, your shirt," she said, looking away.

"I'm one of the tribe now, remember? Besides, you've probably seen fifty bare chests since being here."

"Well, yeah, but they're natives."

He laughed. "So? Our chests look the same if you haven't noticed. Theirs is a shade darker and not as hairy perhaps."

"Really," she said with indignation. "Can we talk about something besides chests?"

She wasn't like the typical church lady he knew. Most would have fainted from fear at being in this camp, and they certainly would not have sought to give this wild people religion, but she was the typical religious woman in terms of her prudishness. "I wasn't the one who brought it up."

Their turn came, and they were giving a helping of buffalo stew.

"What is your Indian name?" he asked as they walked away with the meal.

"I don't have an Indian name."

"You will," he warned.

She didn't believe him because she looked clearly unamused. "My name is Ruth McKenzie. I go by Sister Ruth."

"I'm Kid Cole, but like I said we'll both probably be going by something else soon."

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, not caring that the setting for her prayer was unusual. "We thank thee, Lord, for our daily 'bread' to us poor sinners. May it nourish our bodies and give us the strength to do Your work. In your Son's name we pray. Amen."

They ate their too-small helpings of stew in hardly any time at all. It only took the edge off their hunger, but it wasn't because they weren't part of the group that their helpings were small. Everyone received the same portions.

A woman came up to Sister Ruth. He recognized her as the wizen medicine woman. She had a small pot that she gave to Ruth.

"What is this?" Ruth sniffed the pot and made a face. In another prayer, this one more pleading, she said, "Oh, Lord, please tell me they don't want me to eat this."

He could smell it from here. It smelled like charcoal and buffalo tallow. It would be one way to clean out your insides.

Ruth took it and rubbed a little of the concoction between her fingers. "Maybe it's medicine?" She asked Kid because she couldn't ask the medicine woman.

He shrugged. He hadn't the slightest clue.

However, the elderly woman had picked up on their confusion. She made a motion of dipping her fingers in an imaginary pot and then running her fingers through her hair.

He laughed, understanding at once. "She wants you to rub it into your hair."

"Well, when in Rome, I guess," she said and proceeded to apply it. "It couldn't hurt, and maybe it'll make her slightly more friendly to me."

Kid observed the task. It was working to a degree. The auburn strands that glowed red in the sun were becoming more black.

The medicine woman had walked away. Ruth saw him watching her. "How come they're not making you put that gunk in your hair?"

He understood that part as well. "My hair's already black."

"You mean they're trying to make me look like one of them?"

"That's the idea. Less questions that way if the wrong people like the Calvary should see you among them."

"I think my blue eyes and pasty white skin will give me away."

"But are people going to see your eyes from a distance? And with all this time spent in the sun without a hat, you'll tan soon enough and pass for a half-breed."

"No, what I'll do is freckle and burn."

He was about to tell her she'd still look pretty but thought better of it. "Even so, black hair is better than brown or blonde or red for purposes of blending in."

"I reckon so."

They were interrupted by the translator, who was up on a horse. "We go kill." He pointed to Kid. "You come."

Another in the gathering party led over a mare that was a soft brown color with a dark brown mane and passed it off to him.

"That's a fine-looking horse," Kid said. He was stalling, trying to come up with a plan to avoid taking lives.

"Ain't it?" Ruth said dryly. "That's my horse."

"You know how to use bow and arrow?" the translator asked him, ignoring Ruth's claim of ownership.

He gulped hard. They clearly expected him to kill, not just come along for the ride. Did these people never rest? "No."

They returned him his gun from last night. Ruth was watching him with wide eyes as he mounted. "What are you going to do?" she whispered.

He liked that she assumed he wouldn't kill. If she'd heard of him, she wouldn't say that. "I'm not sure yet."

The translator pushed his way between them, both horse and man snorting. "Buffalo waits for no one."

They both sighed with relief. Killing a buffalo would be much easier than killing a person, or so he hoped.


	7. Chapter 7

Kid expected just the men to be going on this hunt, but it soon became apparent that most of the camp was moving with the exception of the elderly, the very young, and the sick. It made sense their life revolved around the hunting of buffalo. It was their source of sustenance. It provided them so much.

One of the men had located tracks in the mud the day before apparently. He saw the tracks periodically as they traveled; they looked similar to cow prints. When it got late, the camp went up. He tried to get close to Ruth, but they were all so busy setting up the temporary camp, there was no time.

Early the next day the men went out at sunrise, but the rest of the camp stayed. They must have thought they were close to the herd at this point. They stumbled at last onto a mother and her calf that had strayed from the herd.

Kid fired and then watched as one arrow flew out further than the others and felled the mother. He'd gotten the calf with a bullet, not as fancily done as the arrow but just as effective. He could tell the strength and skill it took to kill with the arrow was a source of pride to them from the way they rejoiced over it.

They were back in camp with their kills before nightfall.

He sought out Ruth with his eyes. She'd done another application to her hair. Her blackened hair was just making her pale skin and eyes stand out even more, but she was still beautiful. And not just on the outside. She couldn't have conversations with the Comanche, but she showed her friendliness in other ways by her smile and the way she picked up a tool one of the women dropped. One would think she'd lived among these people all her life. She treated none of them like strangers much less enemies. And that sweetness was exactly what was going to get her killed.

The women hadn't been idle and had wooden frames set up in preparation for the butchering, but the men were going to help as well from the way they picked up knives and such. He watched the activity with great interest, not because he'd never seen an animal butchered but because he wondered if it was culturally different from what he was used to.

The carcasses were placed on the belly and their limbs were stretched out to hold it in place. They made very calculated cuts, taking care to preserve the hide. There were beds of large herbage and shrub branches that kept the parts that were removed and intended for eating from getting soiled.

He watched with particular interest as they slashed the udders and created a strange concoction of blood and buffalo milk. It was like some weird pagan rite one expected to only find in ancient times, but the drinking of blood was alive and well here in America.

The translator, whose name he'd learned was Pahayoko, came up beside him with the cup of bloody milk. "Do you want?"

He put a hand up. "No, thank you. I don't drink blood."

"It will help your cough. It is good medicine." He held it out for him to take.

Kid doubted the accuracy of that statement though he wouldn't say so, but even if it were true, he didn't think he could bring himself to do it. "I think I'd still prefer the cough."

Pahayoko shrugged like it was his loss and left him in peace.

Kid thought he'd just witnessed the most disgusting beverage imaginable, but then the hunter who'd killed the mother buffalo removed the animal's gall bladder and drank the bile. He had to look away. The Comanche seemed to appreciate manly men, and he didn't think he could stay manly-looking if he emptied the contents of his stomach.

"It's very interesting, ain't it?" Ruth said as she came up next to him, providing a lovely distraction.

"That's one way of putting it," he said. "I knew their customs were different, but I didn't imagine this. I think they must do it to be gruesome."

"I don't think so. I think they just don't know any better. I worry it'll make them sick, but I notice they ain't drinking large amounts of it, so maybe it won't do too much harm. This is just one more reason they need to know God's Word."

"That is in the Bible, isn't it, the command not to drink blood? Makes you wonder if all the rules in there are for our protection."

"Of course they are," she said with a firmness that said she never had doubts. It must have been nice.

"Do you know how long it's going to take you to learn even the basics of their language, much less communicate the whole Bible to them? It's a big book."

"I know, and I'm not the best with languages, but if the Lord wills it, I'll learn well enough, and even if I don't, there are many things that can be communicated without the need of a lot of words. Besides, there is that fellow that speaks English."

"Yes, there is. I'm surprised you don't speak to him more, so you can speak to the others more."

"I don't think he wants to be my mouthpiece, and we had kind of a rough start."

His eyes narrowed. "Rough how?"

"Oh, nothing much. He was just fond of leading me around by my hair."

And yet, she wanted to stay. He just couldn't figure her out.

Pahayoko came back with another drink. Kid stepped in front of Ruth protectively, but the Comanche man paid her no attention. "Milk from the baby buffalo."

Digested milk that had been curdled, he'd seen it done, but it was easier to stomach than blood or bile. He knew he risked offense by not taking it, so he did. "Thank you."

Pahayoko watched him drink it. The taste wasn't horrible like he expected. It was just the idea of it. He mustered a smile. "It's very good."

Pahayoko walked off, and turning around, Kid could see at once that her eyes were laughing at him, knowing his true feelings at having to drink it. "One of the joys of being the victor when you're hunting, I guess," he said dryly.

She chuckled. "Sometimes there's advantages to being a woman even among the Comanche."

She went to help the women work on preserving the meat, probably having been given her work assignment earlier though silent signs. She was a stronger person than he hereto had given her credit for; only a strong woman could find humor in circumstances like these. That's when he realized he was falling in love with her. It didn't change his mission, which was to get her away from here, but it made it a lot more personal.


	8. Chapter 8

Some meat was cut to dry and some was cut to be used fresh. The Comanche wasted nothing. The fat was removed and rendered down and poured, while still warm and liquid into waiting containers where it hardened to be used for later purposes. Some of the containers were obviously made from organs from a previous hunt. The bones were saved to be made into tools. Even the hooves were used for glue and the sinew for string.

It was interesting work at first but more buffalo came and more until the work became tedious. Ruth was glad when it was all over and they went back to the main camp, back where she could be of more service that an extra pair of hands.

Quanna wasn't glad to have her back though. She'd gotten along quite well without her those couple of weeks, but she used her and currently had her mashing up berries.

Ruth's thoughts to turned to Kid. The poor man hadn't asked to be here. Was it wrong that she was glad he was? It was nice to have someone to talk to who spoke her language though he didn't understand her reasons for wanting to stay. Perhaps, she should find a way to help him escape though. It was bound to be what he wanted.

Quanna put a plant in her face and then pointed to her and then the tent flap. Then she put it in her hands. She got the message that Quanna wanted her to find more of it. Why did this feel more like a way to get her out from underfoot in the tent than because she really needed it? She had taught her nothing in the way of medicine or asked for help with the sick beyond mundane tasks like fetching things.

Still, Ruth did her best to cheerfully obey and nodded that she understood and set out. She'd never seen the plant before, but it looked like something one might find near the water, so that's where she went first.

Three girls bathed in the water. Their leather dresses were draped on the banks. A short distance away Kid also was using water for washing, but he had the good sense to keep his britches on in a place where anybody could have walked up on him. He either hadn't noticed or didn't care the girls were there.

The giggles of the girls as they spotted him made his head snap upward like a rubber band, proving he hadn't know they were there. They had no shame as they gazed on him. She was embarrassed for the girls lack of modesty though she knew the girls were a product of a different culture. There was another feeling there burning at the thought of their actions though that she couldn't quite name or was afraid to.

He turned away from the river with enough embarrassment in his expression to make up for the girls' lack. He smiled when he saw her though and came up to her.

"What are you doing out here all alone?" He obviously didn't think it wise for her to be alone and considering what had almost happened before the Comanche discovered she had a gift for healing she couldn't say the concern was unwarranted.

It was hard to concentrate on his face with the droplets of water clinging to his chest like drops of condensation clinging to a forbidden fruit. Her heart beat a crazy rhythm. "I had to find more chest- I mean this," she said holding up the plant and looking away. She could feel the heat on her face at her slipup.

He laughed. Why did he seem so brazen with her but not the girls? "Would you like some help?"

"That would be very kind. They don't give you work?"

"Apparently a man's job is to war, raid, and hunt. Oh, and trade the spoils, but they don't need the whole male population for that."

"Oh, mercy," she said, thinking of her underthings getting traded between various Indian camps.

They walked further down the river as much to put distance between them and the bathing girls as because they didn't see the plant.

"It looks like some kind of milkweed," he commented.

She cocked her head and studied the plant again. She didn't know much about plants in Texas, but it did at that. "You're right."

When they came upon an abundant area of green covering the sandy soil, they stopped and crouched to scout.

"Do you realize today is Sunday?" she asked.

He thought about it for a moment. "I suppose it is."

"I did read the Bible this morning, but I longed to worship with others. Do you miss going to church?"

He didn't look up from his sifting. "No, ma'am. I can't say that I do, since I don't usually attend to begin with."

Her heart sank. He was a lost soul. She'd had the suspicion, but now she had the confirmation. It should have made her take caution and emotionally distance herself, but instead it drew her inwardly closer as she desired him to know the Lord, and whether he knew it or not just then, she felt he desired it too. "Why is that?"

He looked up. "A moot point, since there's not one to attend even if I wanted to." He suddenly got a funny look in his eyes as he said, "Do you realize I could throw you over my shoulder and run off with you right now?"

She wasn't so sure but that she would let him as she got a fluttery feeling, but she said with conviction, "This is a rare opportunity to share the gospel. I would just come back."

He didn't seem irritated with her. "I know. That's why I haven't done it."

"I wouldn't blame you if you took a way of escape," she said quietly though there was no one to hear.

"I like it fine where I'm at right now."

Was he teasing her the way a man teased a woman he liked? As she cast her eyes downward, she noticed a plant that sprouted single leaves in all directions a bit like a star and on the stalk were creamy pale green flowers. She held up the limp plant Quanna had given her. It was definitely a match, so she picked it. "This is it."

Did she imagine it or did he looked disappointed they'd had success so quickly? Had he been hoping to spend more time with her?

He got to his feet and offered her a hand, which she accepted. It was just a brushing of fingertips and then the next thing she knew their palms were pressed together. He was only helping her up. It was perfectly innocent, and yet, it wasn't. His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist. It didn't mean anything the way it sent thrills through her and made her ache, but she knew that was a lie she was telling herself.

And she wasn't sure why that didn't scare her more, knowing the sort of man he was. However, she could see past the outward bravado that might intimidate some to a good and kind man, who was quick to defend those who needed defending. For only someone good and kind would have risked his life to save a stranger the way he had.

It might have become something more than just hand-holding as they gazed intensely at each other if they hadn't been interrupted.

It was Pahayoko, looking a little angry. He pointed at her almost accusingly. "You help Quanna. You teach her."

She dropped Kid's hand and held up the milkweed. "She sent me to get plants she needed."

"No. You teach her how you save warrior's life. She not like it but she will learn."

She had been brought in to teach more than to assist. She couldn't have asked for better opening if she had prayed for it day and night. It was her chance to teach Quanna what was in the Bible. "But how? She won't understand me."

"She speak better English than me."

Ruth lifted her gaze upward in exasperation. Of course she did.


	9. Chapter 9

Ruth went back to camp alone. The men hung back as if there was something they wished to discuss. Maybe Kid was wanted for training purposes for she had noticed all the men had been more skilled on horseback though none had looked better sitting astride a horse in her eyes. She chastised herself silently for having thoughts of the flesh.

As she walked through the camp, one of the women purposely tripped her, and the others laughed despite the fact she had worked along side them for weeks now, including the young women from the river.

It was hard not to feel angry, but she tried to remember to think on them with sympathy. They were so put upon here, doing all the work around the home, including the setting up and taking down of the teepees, as well as the raising the children with the exception of the older boys. Sometimes they even went to war with the men. And the thanks they got from their husbands was to bring back strange women they had exploited and abused for pleasure. They couldn't take their anger out on their providers, so they took it out on the captives who were valued so little.

She was the exception in that she was of value because of her gift of healing, so they found sneakier ways to show their discontent.

She stood up and dusted off her buckskin dress and smiled as if she were merely clumsy. The energy she spent to maintain a good disposition was worth it because all looked at her with surprise but a few looked at her with the tiniest bit of respect because of her response.

"I found it," Ruth announced as she entered the medicine woman's teepee. "I didn't know much you wanted of it, but Pahayoko sent me back."

Quanna turned but made no sign that she had understood anything that she had just said.

"Where would you like it?"

Again, there was no answer. "I know you speak English. Pahayoko told me."

She grumbled under her breath in her language, presumably making threats to the man or to Ruth or both.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

She huffed. "So you can wear me out with your words? Already, you tire me."

She had been accused of talking too much on occasion. "I didn't ask to be here, but I am. I think we can learn from each other and benefit the whole tribe."

"Because of the Great Father in the sky? I lived with a white man in my youth until he left me and married one of his own. I know this white man religion, and I know that a life is saved is by the efforts of man."

"If you know this, then why are you afraid to have me come along?'

The challenge was accepted like she had hoped it would be. "I am Comanche. I fear nothing."

She took her Bible with her, not that she would have occasion to read it unless Quanna translated, which she wouldn't, but it reminded her to hold onto who she was and why she was here in the midst of this vastly different world.

"The woman in here is sick with ague. Milkweed is what will fix her. Not your prayers. People, not God."

"You can use your medicine," she assured her. "God made those milkweeds, but He can heal without them as well."

The sick woman's gaze locked onto her book. "It has power," she said as her eyes glowed with fever.

Ruth was surprised that Quanna had translated. She had to trust she would translate back to the woman accurately. "In a way but not in the way that you think. It helps us know who God is and what He requires of us and so connects us with our Creator, who is the source of power, love, and all healing. "

The woman ignored the translated words and continued to stare at the Bible like it was some kind of magic charm or talisman. Ruth prayed for healing, so that God's name would be praised among this people, and both of the Comanche women gasped, the sick woman because she felt better and Quanna because she felt her cooled skin.

Outside the tent, Quanna said, "You have magic."

"I have God."

Quanna snorted. It was easier for this sensible-minded woman to believe in magic than in God.

Ruth noticed a bag on the ground. It looked like laundry except that it had a very human shape inside the leather bag. "What is that?" Even as she asked it, she suspected she didn't really want to know the answer.

"There is a man inside there. We sewed him up in the leather that has not been tanned and we leave it in the sun. The rawhide will get smaller and it will squeeze him until he dies. But he is dead by now."

She spoke so casually about killing a man, and not just killing him but killing him in such a slow and torturous way. Ruth would have rescued him despite the consequences if it wasn't clear from the total lack of movement that he was already dead as Quanna said. She wondered with a shiver if she had helped to skin the buffalo that had donated its hide for such a terrible cause. "You're a healer. How can you stand to be a part of this in however small a way?"

"He was an enemy sneaking around our camp. He got what he had coming to him."

" _Love your enemies_." It was as much to remind herself of the command as it was to tell Quanna.

"What?"

" _Do good to them which hate you_."

"To them that steal your land? To them who would kill you also?"

"To them most of all. It's what the Lord asks of us."

"Your God would ask his people to cower before your enemies? That is weakness."

"It's strength. The easy thing to do would be to hate in return. To love only those who love you back. Loving the one who hates you requires a strength that only God can provide."

Another snort. Ruth wasn't surprised. She wouldn't believe it with words. She had to be shown.


	10. Chapter 10

Kid grunted as he released the long wooden spear in his hand. It fell unceremoniously at the base of the tree, not even taking a sliver of bark with it. He's been tasked learning to use the lance. No wonder mankind had invented the gun.

It did have one advantage. It gave him an excuse to keep her out of his thoughts because lately she was all he could think about. Of course, by thinking about how he was not thinking of her, he was thinking about her.

Did they really need him to learn it or had Pahayoko just wanted to keep him busy and away from Ruth? He seemed to have designs on her. The warrior had not been a happy man when he'd caught them alone together. The one thing that comforted him was it seemed medicine women didn't marry, but instead devoted their life to healing if the current medicine woman could be gone by.

He retrieved his lance and balanced it in his hand, trying to feel the weight of it to determine how hard to throw. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the ravisher of his thoughts.

He noticed right away that her eyes were on him, not the lance, and more specifically on his muscles. He turned for a better look of her looking at him with a full-on grin.

She quickly met his eyes and turned to spiritual topics, avoiding the carnal. "I believe I made progress today."

"Have you?" He wasn't so much interested in the progress as he was interested in her.

"God is making a way. People will listen to me working with a medicine woman, who miraculously speaks English, in a way they wouldn't if I was just a captive."

He sighed. Did the woman ever talk about anything else? She would wear out a preacher with all her talk of God. He turned and threw the lance against the tree. He believed he actually hit the tree this time, but the wood it took with it as it fell on the ground wouldn't be enough for a splinter.

"Not easy, is it?" she asked.

"No, ma'am." He went and got the lance.

"You're angry with Him."

That simple statement had the ability to see into his soul into a place that he didn't know existed and startled him. He'd thought of his feelings toward God as indifference, but was it anger?

Perhaps, it was. God had done nothing to save him from his sorry childhood with an alcoholic father and a mother too afraid to stand up to his abuse. He had done nothing when his brother, his only sibling, had died because his father was in too sorry a state to fetch the doctor in time when he'd fallen out of a tree. Yes, perhaps he was angry at God.

"You don't know me."

"Maybe not," she returned so gently that you couldn't be annoyed with her for being a busybody, "but I'd like to."

He couldn't help but stare at her mouth, willing her to say it again. He took a step closer to her, but she turned her head away, but not before he'd seen her looking at his lips while wetting her own. She wanted him to kiss her, whether she was ready to admit that or not.

Still, he respected her wishes and backed off.

He cleared his throat. "Would you like to try the lance? Maybe you'll be better at it than me."

"I doubt that, but it does sound fun," she said a little too quickly to be believable. She was looking for a safe distraction as she went and retrieved the lance herself.

She didn't hold it right. He didn't know whether it stemmed from nervousness or whether it was too heavy.

"Here, let me help," he said, positioning himself behind her.

His hand went on her waist. He'd forgotten that she wouldn't be wearing a corset. He could feel the heat of her body through the soft leather. She didn't protest though, and he liked the feel of it too much to remove his hand though that might have been the gentlemanly thing to do. His other hand went to helping her hold the lance straight.

She laughed at the terrible throw that barely left their hands. If only he could capture that magical sound and in some way reproduce it, he'd have made the most marvelous-sounding instrument in all the world.

Her laughter stopped when she saw the intent way he looked at her, and this time she moved toward him, and he wouldn't turn his head for all the gold in the territory.

A man made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a snort, making them both look up. Pahayoko approached. Was that man always watching them?

"It is good you learn," Pahayoko said, addressing Ruth. "You will understand the Comanche man. I will teach."

She looked up at Kid. There was fear there in her eyes. What had that man done to her? He started to move in front of her to protect her. He didn't care if his place here was still precarious.

However, she moved out in front instead. "You would be a better teacher. I'm afraid neither of us really know what we're doing."

"It is good for him to work hard to learn. It is a lesson. You I can teach in a more easy way. Come, you use a boy lance. It is more light and less long."

She followed with slow steps, but she followed. He picked up the lance again, grumbling. He wasn't used to feeling so powerless, but as a lone man among so many warriors, there wasn't much he could do openly without getting himself killed and then what good would he be to her?

He was surprised to see the medicine woman standing near. Living in a close-knit community may have had the advantage of protection and plenty of working hands, but it made it annoyingly hard to have any kind of privacy. "I suppose you saw that? Why is he so interested in her?"

"Didn't you know?" She looked delighted to be the harbinger of bad news. "She is only with me to train. Medicine women do not become medicine women until their woman's flow stops. She will be given in marriage as any woman in the tribe would while she can yet bear children as soon as the teaching is done. And Pahayoko will be her husband."


	11. Chapter 11

Kid was waiting and practicing close to the area where Pahayoko and Ruth were, listening for any signs that she may need him.

However, she walked away from the practice unscathed. She was rather distracted though as she almost didn't see him and startled when she did. "Kid." She took a note of his posture and expression. "What's wrong with you?"

"Do you know you are going to marry that man?"

She laughed out loud. "What are you talking about?"

"That's why he has been hovering around you like a fly to muck."

"Well, that's flattering." She was not annoyed with the comparison but trying to bring a little levity.

"It's not a joke."

She put her hands on her hips. "Where did you hear that from or is it just an assumption on your part?"

"It's no assumption. The medicine woman told me."

The fear came back though one could only tell from her sudden fidgety fingers. "I wish someone would have told me."

"Now how eager are you to stay here?" he challenged.

She lifted her chin and cast a steely gaze. Determination, while not quite vanquishing the fear, replaced most of it. "Still eager. I suppose I would have even more of a voice if I was married to one of them. Maybe it's God's will."

"God's will for you is to marry a man that terrifies you?"

"He doesn't terrify me. We just have an interesting history together."

"Enlighten me," he said, folding his arms.

"It's not as horrible as you're probably thinking. He led me around by my hair when I was first captured while he was wearing my corset. It was probably unnerving more than anything else."

He didn't have the words to retort, but finally he said, "You are not going to marry that man."

"I'm not going to run like Jonah. I know I've been called to proclaim the good news to them."

He admired her conviction even if it made him angry too. "You're crazy. Maybe I can talk to one of the chiefs or whoever it is around here that makes the decisions about marriage and talk them into letting you marry me instead."

He wasn't prepared for her answer. "I don't see how that helps. Are you any more of a believer than he is?"

"At least I know how to treat a lady," he said. "I wouldn't drag you by your hair or insist you perform wifely duties."

"He doesn't know better because he's a pagan."

He heard the question though she didn't say it. What was his excuse that he didn't follow Christ as someone who'd heard the good news before? How could he look down on a man for being violent when just by being a gunfighter he practiced violence? "It wouldn't have to be real at all. Once you come to your senses, and you will one day, we can get it annulled easily if an Indian marriage even counts by our law in the first place."

"I appreciate the offer. I really do."

"But?"

"But I can't let you make the sacrifice. It puts you in jeopardy to try to fight for an already taken woman, and I'm no less equally yoked by marrying you, so thank you, but no thank you."

His fingers curled as they ran through his hair. He was so frustrated, and she stood there looking half apologetic and half rebellious, but all sweet. Then he did something unplanned and drastic. He grabbed her and kissed her.

They may have been arguing, but a person wouldn't know it to see the harmony with which they kissed. They were one as in mind, body, and heart as their lips moved against each other, and any arguments dissolved into nothingness.

Her eyes fluttered in a dreamlike state for just a moment after they pulled apart and then the annoyance flashed through and colored her cheeks. "Are you really trying to manipulate me with a kiss? Do you think you're going to make my knees buckle and all my resolve is going to fly out the window as I swoon in your arms?"

"I didn't think that." He couldn't have fallen in love with a more stubborn, obstinate woman if he searched the world over. Of course, he didn't think that all that would disappear with a kiss. "A man can dream though."

A sigh of disgust and she spun on her heels and stormed away. It was a moment he would expect to hear the angry clack of heels, but the soft Indian boots prevented that.

If he had any sense, he would storm away too, away from this camp, but he couldn't do that.

Mad with himself for falling in love with a woman he couldn't have, he picked up the lance and threw it hard at the tree. This time it lodged in the trunk.


	12. Chapter 12

Once her anger subsided, Ruth shivered despite her bravado. She'd meant everything she said, but loving her enemy just got a lot more literal.

It was even harder to think about marrying someone else with his kiss still fresh on her mind. It bothered her that it had affected her so. He bothered her. He had a way of getting under her skin, and she didn't quite know what to make of it.

It didn't matter what she made of it. Her fate was sealed if she hoped to live among them.

Quanna found her standing outside and contemplating and gave her a little push toward one of the tipis. "Come, you will see a Comanche childbirth."

She had seen a baby born before. Her grandmother and mother both had been midwives. She couldn't imagine the way a woman gave birth varied very much.

However, she realized she was wrong the moment she stepped into the tipi.

The Comanche mother squatted over hot stones as she waited for the child to drop rather than lying down in a more relaxed position. "That's one way to deal with the pain," she said, speaking of the heat. "Does it help?"

"Would we do it if it didn't?" Quanna quipped. "Quit talking, and make yourself useful. Fetch water. And soft leaves and brush."

She thought the second request odd and was curious, but Quanna didn't look in the mood to answer any questions.

She had to go back to the medicine woman's tipi to get the clay vessel and search through the trees for the brush and leaves, and of course, walk to the river for the water. By the time she got back, two holes had been dug inside the tipi. One was to heat the water because Quanna took the water and dumped it in, and the other was presumably for catching the afterbirth.

The sky became dark, and still the baby hadn't come. In the glow of the firelight, Ruth could see the perspiration that covered the woman's face. Though her expression remained stoic, her eyes said she was in a lot of pain. She must have longed to cry out, but this warrior culture would have likely counted it a weakness.

Quanna inspected the progress once more. Her grim countenance said the woman likely wasn't going to survive the childbirth.

"What's wrong?" Ruth asked.

"The baby is already on its way but has decided to stop. If it does not move soon, the mother and baby will die."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes. Call to your God," she said, albeit with a trace of sarcasm. She still didn't believe that prayer had anything to do with the healings.

Ruth, however, took it seriously. She closed her eyes and lifted the woman and the baby up in prayer silently, but she said the amen out loud.

A soft moan escaped the mother. Quanna looked at Ruth almost as if she suspected her of being the cause of the trouble in the first place before checking the progress. "It is moving again."

"Praise God."

This time Quanna said nothing snide but simply waited for the baby to drop, crouching beside the mother.

There was a longer groan than the first, and the baby's head crowned. Rather than catching it, Quanna had spread the leaves and brush under, and the baby fell softly into the natural bedding. Ruth cringed, but it didn't look worse for the wear. In fact, the baby boy looked quite healthy all things considered. The mother looked exhausted but that was to be expected.

"Go get her food. She will need to build back her strength."

Ruth rushed out immediately and almost plowed into the father, who waited outside anxiously. He tightly gripped her wrist, wanting news.

With her free arm, she bounced an imaginary baby to let him know it had arrived.

He grinned and released her before going inside.

Ruth had to wait a little while for the communal pottage to be ready. On her return, she saw a warrior symbol had been freshly painted on the side of the tipi. The baby was already considered a warrior by just being born a boy.

sss

Not long after the baby was born, there was a public naming ceremony for him.

For someone who had little regard for religion, Quanna had no problem praying to whoever the Comanche prayed to as she smoked a pipe, sending the smoke in four directions.

"They're into smoking pipes. I had to smoke a peace pipe," Kid commented.

She jumped. She had been so intent on watching the ceremony, she hadn't seen him sneak up beside her.

She bristled as she wondered if he would try to talk her out of her plans once more, but he was silent. Though they didn't outwardly argue, there was a tension hanging heavy between them that was almost suffocating.

She focused on the ceremony again and watched as Quanna lifted the baby up and repeated his name four times. "POTSɄNAKWAHIPɄ, POTSɄNAKWAHIPɄ, POTSɄNAKWAHIPɄ, POTSɄNAKWAHIPɄ."

"That's a mouthful, ain't it?" she commented, hoping to dispel some of said tension. "I wonder what it means."

"Knowing the Comanche, probably something to do with being a warrior or buffalo."

She smiled but lost that smile when she saw Pahayoko watching them, his dark eyes glittering and reminding her what a dangerous man he really was. She moved away from Kid before Pahayoko decided Kid was a threat that needed eliminating.


	13. Chapter 13

The tribe was on the move again. This time the main camp was moving as well. Ruth helped Quanna disassemble their home as it was, packing and rolling. Quanna almost seemed to smile at her once when she insisted on lifting the heavy load alone. Almost. The work made for a companionable silence.

That was why she was surprised when Quanna didn't so much as lift a finger when it was time to assemble it again. The question as to why she would do such a thing must have been revealed in her face.

"You must learn to put together a tipi yourself. For your husband."

This was her first mention of an impending marriage. She wanted to ask her more about the wedding customs, and she started to, but the woman pointed fiercely at the tipi as soon as she opened her mouth.

She watched the other women for a clue as to how to go about it. The poles clearly went up first, and she tried to imitate their actions, driving the wooden sticks into the ground while trying to get them to lean into the middle. However, it looked a lot easier than it was. The poles fell over multiple times.

Quanna just stood there watching and offering no encouragement or advice.

Just when she began to believe the woman must have enjoyed watching her fail, she lent a hand. She'd probably grown tired of waiting.

Quanna had the wood in the ground in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Wrapping the skin around was easy compared to the first step, or at least it seemed so with the older woman helping now.

They were just about to start bringing Quanna's belongings inside the tipi when a woman ran up to Quanna and began speaking in urgent tones.

Whatever she said was enough to make Quanna drop everything and follow her to her family after stopping only to grab a plate. A sick-looking child lay in front of a half-put-together tipi. The woman now stood anxiously beside her husband, who also looked worried for the boy.

"He has put his witch-craft on him," Quanna explained.

"Who?" she asked, looking around and almost expecting to some painted-up, feathered shaman.

"The witch of our villiage did this. There is a feather in this child's body," she said, pointing to the boy's arm.

She didn't know if there was a piece of feather in the forearm, but there was no arguing that the site was swollen.

Quanna pulled off a knife that had been hanging somewhere on her person and made an incision in the center of the swelling and started sucking.

Ruth was beyond horrified. She'd seen bloodletting before, but she'd never seen anyone take the role of the leech. "What are you doing?"

She ignored her until she'd deemed her task complete: spitting what she'd collected into the plate and pronouncing some sort of blessing over the child in her native tongue. Then she finally answered. "I removed the feather."

There was no way she had sucked up a real feather unless it was invisible.

Quanna muttered and spit in the direction of a watching old man. "The witch," she said in disgust. With more disgust than even she had been shown.

Ruth looked closely at this so-called witch. He was feeble and quite elderly. It was obvious he'd once been a tall, proud warrior before age had hunched him over and shrunken the muscles on his gaunt frame.

She supposed this was a way of holding onto a little of his former power and prestige to pretend at being a witch and to cast imaginary spells when he spotted the sick. And maybe he did have a little help from darker powers, who delighted in helping spread darkness in whatever way they could, but sometimes the power of suggestion and a few visual tricks could work wonders. She'd seen it with charlatan faith healers who got rich off others' misery.

Well, darkness wasn't going to be victorious today. She knelt and touched the boy, whose arm was still swollen and now cut. It was warm to the touch. She shut her eyes and prayed out loud. "Lord God, heal this boy that he and others may know Your love for them. That Your name may be glorified and Satan's lies may be exposed for all to see. In Your Son's name, I pray. Amen."

sss

Kid felt as his mouth dropped, and he knew he wasn't the only one. Almost the whole village watched as the swelling and redness disappeared, and the boy stood up as right as rain like he hadn't been laying there, struggling with infection only moments before, and it happened as soon as Ruth had finished praying.

No wonder the Indians wanted her to be their next medicine woman. She was amazing. What she did was nothing short of miraculous. He'd heard of the power of prayer, heard of faith healers, but he'd never witnessed one in action until now.

He breathed in so deep, it was like shards of glass were piercing his lungs. Possibly she did have a greater destiny than he'd imagined and one that was among the Comanche. A destiny that didn't include him. Maybe the best thing he could do was to leave her to her life.

Why then did that thought leave him cold? It was if something or someone spoke and told him it would be a mistake. He reminded himself of all the stories he'd heard of their evil escapades. His first step was figuring out how he could procure her as his bride to buy some time because it was plain to see that there wasn't much more that Quanna could teach her.


	14. Chapter 14

Ruth found herself being vigorously being shaken awake. "There's a horse outside, Nadua."

"Nadua?" she mumbled sleepily, not recognizing the word.

"It is your name now," Quanna said fiercely, daring her to argue. "It simply means found."

She actually liked it. She was found and seeking the lost here, so they could be found too. "Nadua," she repeated. She got to her feet and looked out the flap to see her horse staring her in the face. "He's giving me my own horse back?"

"No. He is giving it to me."

"Why is he giving it to you?"

Quanna pinched the bridge of her nose, tiring of her questions. She admitted she asked a lot of them, but there was so much about this culture she didn't know. "I am the only family you have here. The man gives a gift to the family of the woman he wants to marry."

So Quanna was an adoptive mother of sorts. That was sweet she supposed. Though the woman hadn't taken the role willingly.

After breakfast, they received a visitor. She had seen him around but couldn't recall his name. The names were all foreign to her and hard to pronounce though they were just the beginning. She had to master the language if she hoped to show the people she cared, but the Lord had seen fit to provide speakers of English until she did, which she thanked Him for repeatedly.

"This is Pahayoko's uncle," Quanna said, answering the question before she asked it.

"Is that right?" She wondered what he could possibly want with her.

The man let out a string of words in his harsh-sounding language, but he didn't look at her harshly.

"He says Pahayoko would like to marry you."

"Why doesn't he tell me himself?"

"Because that is not the way we do things."

She supposed that was a good reason, but it was peculiar to be proposed to by a relative. She didn't know what to say. What could she say? Did she even have to agree? Was Pahayoko just going to come in the middle of the night and snatch her?

Seeing her hesitation, Quanna said, "You can say no. You are considered one of the tribe. Comanche women are not slaves. They can say yes or no to the man who asks to be their husband."

"Really?"

"Yes, but you'd be wise to think on it. He is the only man here who speaks your tongue."

She'd forgotten Kid, but maybe she didn't consider him one of the tribe. Still, the fact that a man spoke the same language wasn't a high enough recommendation to her. She would obey God's word and not marry a man who didn't share her faith though it might make the tribe look on her even more disfavorably. "Then no."

The old man took it well, but then he wasn't the one asking for her hand. She hoped Pahayoko took it as well.

sss

Pahayoko wouldn't tell him how to go about marrying a woman around here as his rival. He wasn't sure Quanna would either, but she was his only option, so that's who he went to. He caught her alone, making some kind of medicinal concoction.

"I want to marry, Ruth," he said, coming straight to the point. He'd gotten the feeling that she was a woman who appreciated brevity.

"You mean Nadua."

They'd changed her named already? It figured. "If that's what she goes by now. And I don't know how I go about asking. I was hoping you could help me."

She considered him for the longest time before responding. He thought she was going to refuse. "You must give me a gift to show you can take care of her. What do you have to give?"

That was a good question. He had no horses, which must have been the purpose of the one he'd seen outside Quanna and Ruth's tent. He hoped it wasn't too late for him to ask, but she probably would have said something if it was. He had nothing but what he had snuck into camp with: the clothes on his back and his weapon. He couldn't give her his clothes but... "Thank you, ma'am. I think I know what to do now."

sss

Ruth was sewing a rip in her boot outside the tipi, making use of the sun. Quanna sewed a dress beside her. The deerskin was not as pliable as cloth and the needle was made from bone rather than metal, but the basic principles were there. "Different but not as hard to sew it as I thought."

"No. Sewing human lips together is much harder."

She let out a short bark of laughter. Quanna surely jested, but her eyes remained fixed on her work, and Ruth thought perhaps not. She didn't know if she'd issued a warning to her because of her chatter or merely made an observation, but she thought it wise to finish the task in silence.

They were interrupted by Kid's approach. He carried his firearm and gave it to Quanna, who took it.

"Why did you just give her your gun?" Ruth asked him.

"Because I don't have a ring."

She gasped. He was following the Comanche marriage custom. This was another proposal.

"Will you marry me?" he asked.

"Thank you for asking, but I already told you why I can't marry you." She picked her sewing back up, praying he'd go away.

"You did tell me. Now let me tell you why I would make a good husband. I can protect and provide for you, I respect you and would allow you to do whatever you wished, but most of all I love you."

She put the sewing down again. "You can't love me. We hardly know each other. " People who had known less about each other had gotten married and gone on to have wonderful marriages. It was a weak excuse.

"I can, and I do." He motioned her to a place of privacy, and she reluctantly got up and followed. "Listen, if you want to stay here and tell about God for the rest of your life. Okay. I'll be by your side as you do it."

That had been one of her primary defenses was that he was trying to draw her away from her purpose, and now he wasn't. She still had one defense left, and it was a good one. "But you don't know and love God and that I could never abide in a husband."

"But you could abide it in an Indian husband."

"That was when I thought I didn't have the ability to say no, but I know now I do, and I refused him just like I'm refusing you." She wished Kid would have had a relative to send in his place. It would be so much easier refusing him if she didn't have to look into his soulful eyes.

"You are the most stubborn, pigheaded person I have ever met."

"I could say the same thing about you," she retorted.

"They expect you to say yes to a man sometime. That's what women here do here. They get married and have babies. If you haven't noticed that's what white women do too. All except for you."

"How do you know I've never been married?" she threw back though she hadn't.

"Because there's not a man alive who could put up with you."

She threw her hands in the air in sheer exasperation and hurt. "Oh! Why don't you go find an Indian bride and leave me be!"

"Maybe I will," he said, and this time he was the one to storm away from the argument.


	15. Chapter 15

It was awkward for Ruth, seeing the men she'd said no to so constantly and see them she did though neither man spoke to her.

Kid was speaking to a young native this very minute. She was pretty: natural raven hair unlike her own greased up and darkened hair, skin that was a flawless coppery brown unlike her reddened, freckled skin, and warm brown eyes with long black eyelashes that flashed at him flirtatiously. Had he taken her advice to marry one of them?

She hoped not for his soul's sake. Oh, who was she kidding? Certainly not God. She hoped not for her sake. She was jealous. It was best to look away before she got angrier and more hurt. She was already dwelling on the unkind things he'd said though she knew it came from a place of hurt.

She almost barreled into Quanna. "I need your help," she said.

Ruth brightened. This was a first to be asked and a clear sign of progress. "Someone needs prayer?"

"No, he is beyond help," she said, pointing to one of the tents. "Even you can't raise people from the dead."

"No, but I worship One who can and who raised Himself from the dead."

"So you say, but there will be no miracles today. We are just preparing his body for his burial. He has no woman or family to do it."

She gave a gasp upon entering. The elderly man who'd called himself a witch lay on the ground, his eyes unseeing. Blood speckled the skin around a gaping wound in the middle of his chest.

"Did someone murder him?" she asked, managing to squeeze the words out of her tight throat.

"We make war against others, not our own people. He died by his own hand."

She found that possibly even more horrifying. "Why would he do a thing like that?"

"Because he was slow. He was weak. To a man, being a warrior is everything, and once he reaches an age, he can no longer make war. No Comanche man wants to live to be an old man. Better to die in the battlefield, but if that doesn't happen, he takes his own life. Do you understand?"

No, she didn't understand. Age should be honored for the wisdom attained. There was more to life than life here on the earth. There was a reason to hope into old age. It explained why she saw very few older men walking around, a fact she hadn't truly considered until now." Don't your people believe in a life after death?"

"We believe in an afterlife. He was a good warrior in his time. He will live in heaven now."

She saw in that moment that war was their religion. They fought hard, making war at the slightest cause and provocation, and if they lived by that creed well, they lived a peaceful afterlife. Except that they didn't. Not without Christ. "He took his life to go to heaven?"

"He had no use for this life anymore. His power was gone. You took from him the little power he held when you healed the boy in such a miraculous way before everyone's eyes."

She wasn't sorry for making the boy better or for showing the power of God before the Comanche, but she was sorry that he felt as if he had nothing else to life for. She wished she could have told him better. She felt as her eyes filled up with salty tears.

Quanna seemed to dig up a measure of pity. "You didn't kill him."

"No, but now he is lost forever. I wish he could've had faith enough to live out all the days God set for him. I wish he had given his life and his death over into the hands of the living God." She tasted the tears that ran down his face. She needed some air and a few moments to collect herself before she could even think about touching the body. "Excuse me for a minute."

Kid saw her and moved toward her. She shook her head. She couldn't deal with the emotions she felt for him and the emotions she felt right now at the same time. Quanna stepped out too, and Ruth headed to the woods for a few moments of solitude to commune with God.

She heard them talking as she walked.

"Did you do something to her?" The fierce protection she heard in his voice made her heart swell in her chest. He still cared about her despite her rejection of him.

"I did nothing. She mourns for the soul that is beyond her reach or her god's."


	16. Chapter 16

Ruth spent her tears in the cover of the trees. It was so sad these people dying without knowing Christ. It strengthened the resolve of her mission, and she prayed.

"Lord, You've made my path straight thus far, and I thank You. Help me find the words to say to the Comanche that will convince them of their need for You and Your love for them. I pray that for Kid as well. He's a good man. I know it. And give me the strength I need to bear the disappointments. Amen."

"Are you better now?" Quanna asked dryly, not really caring, when she returned.

"Yes," she said, stepping back into the tipi after her and trying not to focus on the gruesome way he'd died.

"It would have been easier to do this if he was still warm, " she groused.

She was afraid to ask, but she had to. "Do what?"

"This," she said as she took one of his legs and tucked it against his chest. "Give me the rope."

Ruth picked it up off the ground, but it was a while before Quanna was ready to take it. The already hunched up man was made even smaller as the medicine woman anchored his limbs against his cold body. The arms were folded against the sides of his chest. Even his head was bent forward.

"Hold his legs."

The limbs were threatening to move out of position, so Ruth had the unpleasant task of holding them down while Quanna firmly tied them and the rest of the body into the bizarre position.

"Now we wash."

They proceeded to wash the skin that was still exposed. For some unexplained reason, Quanna painted the eyelids red. Ruth asked why, but Quanna feigned not hearing.

Ruth was relieved when a blanket was wrapped around the body to cover it.

"Now help me carry him outside," Quanna instructed.

She thought maybe that meant a hole had already been dug, or she'd even heard of burning the body. She wasn't prepared for where they took it.

"Put it up in the pony's saddle."

She hesitated at the side of the brown animal with the white socks. It seemed too strange, but in the end, she complied.

"Now you."

Her eyes widened. "Now me what?"

"A squaw rides with the body to the burial place. You're the squaw."

This day just kept getting better. She never thought she'd prepare a body for death in such a strange fashion and she never thought she'd take a horseback ride with a corpse.

As she rode, she thought. The horse was a weird part of the ceremony, but it made sense when she reflected that the Comanche considered a horse to be the most valuable thing they could own.

Others went out of duty. She followed the party to a ravine. Looking over the edge, she saw there were bodies down there in various stages of decay. She felt like she was going to be sick. In deed, her breakfast threatened to make a return before she pushed it back down.

She got down and watched with a certain amount of horror as the body was lifted and thrown in there haphazardly with no particular decorum or ceremony like a very round sack of potatoes.

"You can't save every soul," Kid said, gentle yet firm. She jumped at the sound of his voice so close in her ear. She had been so engrossed in it all. She hadn't even known he'd come along.

"I would be happy if I could save just one," she said, looking at him earnestly and hoping that he would take the hint.

"You can't save one that doesn't want saving. They're happy living the way they do."

"In the same way that a child is happy playing in a sandpit because he's never been to the beach. There's something better for them. Their souls will suffer eternal damnation. Doesn't that make it worth trying?"

"You think I'm damned to hell?"

"I know you are. Every man's soul is until they turn to God and let Him save their soul."

"I try to comfort you, and you turn it into an attack," he said, his temper rising.

"You sure it ain't your conscience doing it? Telling you what I say is truth?"

He blew out a snort of disgust and walked away, using the crowd around them as a buffer. Her heart ached because he wouldn't listen, but she refused to give up. Something in her told her to keep trying to win him over.


	17. Chapter 17

Ruth's shoulders ached from all the grinding of herbs she'd done this morning. She stepped outside to stretch them and caught the sound of a deep, mellow voice in song.

She followed the bass notes to find Kid singing some little folk song as he trained with a bow and arrow this time. He was a better shot with it than he was with the spear. It actually lodged into the tree.

She leaned against another tree and listened as he sang a verse.

"'Twas for her, the Maid of Islay,  
Time flew o'er me wing'd with joy;  
'Twas for her, the cheering smile aye  
Beam'd with rapture in my eye.  
Not the tempest raving round me,  
Lightning's flash or thunder's roll;  
Not the ocean's rage could wound me,  
While her image fill'd my soul."

He seemed to sense he had an audience, and he stopped singing to look back at her.

"Oh, please. Don't stop singing on my account. You're wonderful at it." Not only did his singing thrill her but the fact that he might possibly be thinking of her when he sang about the maid thrilled her. She hoped that wasn't wicked of her.

"You sing?"

"I sing," she answered, but with laughter in her voice she continued, "Don't ask me if I sing well."

"I'd like to hear you."

She obliged with a hymn. "Jesus shall reign where'er the sun  
Does his successive journeys run;  
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,  
Till moons shall wax and wane no more."

He looked at her a long time before answering. "You're too hard on yourself. I've never heard anyone sing with so much sincerity and emotion."

She chuckled. "That's one way to put it, but I sing joyfully before the Lord, and that's all that He requires."

They'd said the same things in song they'd said to each other in speaking as he sang of romantic love and she of the desire to see the day when Jesus was proclaimed in every part of the world, including the Comanche world, but they hadn't argued this time. They'd actually complimented each other. "Maybe we should sing to each other all the time," she jokingly suggested. "Maybe we won't walk away angry."

"Yeah," he said. "I was coming to see you." He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. "I carved it myself."

She took the wooden item and squinted at it in confusion. It was a pipe. Did he think she used tobacco? "I don't smoke."

You don't have to smoke it. You just have to take it. It's a peace pipe. The Comanche use it. It means I'm sorry for arguing with you, and I want there to be peace between us."

He might have seemed tough and gruff on the outside, but his outward persona hid a really sweet, kind man inside. One that she wanted to kiss again for the charming gesture, but that was a thought she had to quickly take captive. "So do I."

He smiled at her and her resolve weakened. "Lord, give me strength," she said quietly.

"What?" Kid asked.

"Nothing. I just realized I should be getting back to work before Quanna starts looking for me." Really there was a slim chance of that happening. She had a feeling the woman would be happy if she just disappeared one day.

"I'll walk you back," he offered. He was as mannerly as if he wore a suit and tie though in reality he was only in breeches and moccasins, a fact she often tried to ignore.

They caught sight of Pahayoko going inside a tipi with a woman, an obvious intimacy between them from the way they looked at each other.

"I don't remember a wedding ceremony," Ruth said.

"There is none from what I gather. She accepted when he asked. They share a tipi now." He shrugged.

That was simple enough, and she was glad Pahayoko had found another woman to occupy him. There was no reason morally or otherwise there had to be any pomp or splendor associated with a marriage. Still... "I don't think I'd feel married," she observed.

"Oh, you'd feel married before I was through. I guarantee it."

She blushed at the bold words. Her tongue became tied and her mouth went dry. She tried to wet her lips as she thought of a coherent response, but he mistook it for an invitation because he leaned in. She quickly stashed the peace pipe between her teeth, blocking his way. "Thanks for the pipe."

He snorted with laughter and not anger. Already the pipe was doing its work. No wonder the Comanche used it.


	18. Chapter 18

Ruth passed a hand over the woman's eyelids, closing them. She'd prayed, pleaded in fact, for this Comanche woman to be healed and the tribe had gathered to watch the show as it were, and this lady had died.

She had died with a fearful look on her face. The fact that she was she Comanche made that more surprising. What had she seen to horrify her so? If only she could tell them, there might be converts.

A death from sickness had to happen sometime. God was her master, not her servant. Sometimes when she asked He said no because He knew what was best. It about her becoming a part of His work rather than Him becoming a part of hers.

They didn't understand that, and they were disillusioned. She could see it in their hard stares, and for a moment, she wondered if they were going to kill her.

She sighed with relief when they dispersed.

"You have been lucky, Nadua. Now you are not," Quanna said. "I will still teach you everything I know."

It hurt that Quanna thought her a sham, the one who had seen the most miracles and understood her words, or at least she understood the English. It was the spiritual she didn't understand. "Thank you. I do want to learn, but could I take a walk in the woods to pray?"

"If you are to be Comanche, you must give up your god."

"Then I'm afraid I can never be a Comanche no matter how much you blacken my hair or teach me your skills."

She rolled her eyes. "Go. Pray. Be thankful I am a patient woman."

The funny thing was she probably was patient for these people, She'd never once struck her and she allowed her liberties she didn't have to give. "Thank you."

The old woman muttered in her native language as she turned away.

Ruth hurried into the woods before she changed her mind. It was late evening, and she found a place to watch the sunset. So beautiful and different each day. It made her feel close to her Creator as if God had taken a paintbrush and painted it just for her.

The Comanche didn't see it that way, to them it was just the sun sinking below the horizon, and she was beginning to doubt that they ever would see it any differently.

His long shadow covered her, and she knew it was Kid by the lack of braids, but she thought she would have recognized him irregardless though she couldn't say why exactly.

He joined her without saying a word. She found a companionship in his silence that she might not have if it was filled with meaningless chatter. It was nice.

She was the one to finally break it. "They see me and the healing, not God."

"That's probably true," he said, his deep, mellow voice coursing through her, both electrifying and soothing her.

"I failed them. No doubt the gift saved my life or at least my virtue, but I feel I've driven them further away. If they even believe He exists, they think He's weak now because He didn't save one when He was asked."

* * *

Kid couldn't stand the way her eyes shimmered with that statement. He wanted to cup her cheeks and kiss away her pain. He wanted to hold her in his arms until he absorbed some of her sadness through some sort of osmosis. She wouldn't welcome it though, so he didn't.

"That's not your fault," he told her. "You can't change someone who doesn't want to be changed. And you can't heal someone when it's their time."

He was startled by his own words. He had been blaming God for his family's circumstance, but his father hadn't wanted to change. He couldn't blame anyone for his father's drinking but his father. And he'd blamed God for his brother's death when God had every right to call His creation to Himself.

It had taken this lady with her fierce, beautiful determination to help him see it. A doctor wouldn't have made a difference if his brother's days were done, and God was loving enough to let man choose his own way though he often did his best to warn and discipline as any good parent would.

Sin was sin because innocent people were often caught in the crossfire, children especially. God knew that, and He had grieved over the situation like Ruth was grieving over the Comanche.

 _Lord, I ask for forgiveness. I'm sorry I've blamed You, and I'm sorry I've grieved You. I give You my life for what it's worth, and I thank You for giving me Yours. Amen._

Out loud, he said, "Thank you," as he put a hand over hers.

"For what?" she asked, looking at him with a half smile. "You're the one comforting me."

"For showing me what God's love looks like."

* * *

"Do you mean you've taken Christ to be your Savior?" she asked.

He seemed barely able to contain a smile as he said, "That's exactly what I mean."

He meant it, the sincere expression said he would never joke about such a thing, and she was happy for him. So happy in fact that she found herself conveying her excitement for him with a kiss.

And he was just as excited. She could feel it in the way his lips danced across hers. And the kiss was even better than the last one because she could relax and admit that while the man couldn't lance a tree, he could lance her heart.

"I love you," she said before they'd even had a chance to catch their breath.

And he kissed her again, letting her know he loved her too.

She was thankful that she could finally accept those feelings as God's work and dream of a future with him. Was it silly to think they could live here among the Comanche?

They pulled away again, and he said, "We'd better part until we can get our own tipi and do things the right way. There's something very sensual about the feel of your buckskins, and I haven't been converted long enough to withstand the temptation."

She flushed as she thought that the feel of his bare skin as she'd grasped his arms and back was even more of a temptation.

He looked at her longingly. "And believe you me, I'm going to build you a tipi right away."

"Actually I think it's the woman who builds the tipi," she said with a smile, "but I ain't going to let the grass grow under my feet either."

He brushed his knuckles across her cheek.

"Of course, I have to finish my studies with Quanna."

He dropped his hand and groaned.

She laughed. "We better be getting back before they think we ran away."

They walked back together. There was plenty of light to see by as the moon was almost full again.

"I'll see in you in the morning," she said softly.

"You can count on it."

He disappeared into his tipi first. She lingered, savoring their moments together. Lost in her thoughts and daydreams, she almost didn't see Pahayoko until he was nearly on top of her.

"I would not marry him. I do not think he will have courage to kill white brother, and he will die." The malignant twist of his lips said he still resented her for turning down his proposal though he had taken another wife and could take more if he so wished. She'd seen others in the encampment with more than one.

Had he followed them or just witnessed their lovesick grins as they parted. "What do you mean kill his white brother?"

"Tomorrow we go and take our revenge. If Kid is Comanche, he will spill blood and get a warrior name. If he is not, we will spill his."

Yes, it was silly to have dreamed they could be together. Kid couldn't kill an innocent man in cold blood. Now more than ever, since he'd turned his life over to God. She had to help him escape. Tonight.


	19. Chapter 19

Ruth did her best to quell the panic. She had to do something to save Kid and the innocents they intended to slaughter, but what? How could she get Kid away from his tipi without raising the suspicion of the warrior he shared it with. She looked toward the tipi she shared with Quanna. She'd probably be up all night thinking of a plan.

Quanna was still up, poking the fire, and her mind latched onto a plan.

"I agreed to marry Kid," she announced.

"I thought you might rethink your answer. He is the one that suits you best, and I have seen how you look at each other."

"I reckon we have to wait until I have a tipi of my own." What she was hoping Quanna would say is they could go off alone into the woods together. That way they wouldn't be expected until morning at least.

"Or I could stay in my sister's tipi tonight," she said in a conspiratorial tone.

She could work with that, but she was surprised at the offer. "You would do that?"

"I remember what it was like to be young. He paid me for you with his gun. I will go to his tipi and tell him his bride waits."

"Thank you."

Quanna wouldn't be so obliging is she knew there would be more going on inside the tipi than a honeymoon.

Ruth smoothed her hair and pinched her cheeks. It was silly, trying to look good for him, since the only thing that would be taking place was talking, but it gave her nervous hand something to do.

Kid came almost at once. The light in his eyes as he came through the flap told her that he hadn't heard of the danger. "How did you talk her into giving us a wedding night?"

"I didn't. She suggested it."

"Well, never mind the how, let's just enjoy it." He had already joined her on the ground and his lips had found their way to her neck. He rested a hand on one of her soft, supple boots as if itching to take it off.

She allowed herself just a few seconds to enjoy his nearness and then she firmly moved away, putting space between them. "I actually wanted you here because there's a problem."

"Oh boy," he said, running a hand through his hair and mussing it in the most irresistible way. "It must be a problem for you to go to these extremes."

"Pahayoko told me they're going to go out on one of their raids, killing the white settlers, and they expect you to kill, too."

"I see," he sighed. "I can't say I didn't see it coming. I guess you finally see the reason in escaping."

"For you at least," she said slowly. She watched him open his mouth to voice his protest. "Hear me out. We can't sneak any horses; they guard them too closely and the other horses would start whinnying. Our greatest chance is to escape on foot."

"I'm agreeing with you so far," he said warily.

"Morning will come, and they'll realize we're gone. They'll catch up to us on their horses and slaughter us both. They're too skilled with their horses and hunting, and they probably know the land better. What will it profit us to both die?"

"You want me to cover for you while you get away. Done."

"No, I want to cover for you while you get away." He started to protest, but she was too quick with her words. "You can get farther faster and get help not only for me but for the settlers. And they're not likely to kill me when they find out you're gone. I'm too valuable to them as an Eagle doctor, and they're a little more lenient with women." She didn't add that she'd probably gone down in value when the last person she'd prayed for had died.

He was thinking long and hard. She picked up his hand. "You're our only chance to walk away from this life here. You know it, and I know it."

"I'll bring the Texas Rangers."

Her eyes closed with relief as she sent up a thankful prayer.

"I wish you'd agreed to go a lot sooner. Do you finally see and feel the darkness here?" he asked.

She gave him a sad smile. "I always did, but that's when we need to shine the light the brightest."

"I don't know that any mortal man can. They are crazy. They kill people: children, women, old people, themselves."

"And that's when truth must be spoken the loudest, amid the insanity. I wish I had more time to convince them."

"Doesn't God say to shake dust of a town that won't listen to the gospel from your feet?"

He may have been a new convert, but he had absorbed enough of the Bible as a child to make him a formidable voice of challenge. "Yes."

"You had no chance of saving them. You're assimilating," he said, picking up one of her blackened braids and putting it in front of face, "and meanwhile, they're out butchering babies and raping women. If you don't condemn that by your word and action, doesn't it make you a part of it? Because if you did speak out against it openly or thwart it, Eagle doctor or no, they'd kill you, and then what good did you do?"

"You're right. I know you're right." She had wanted to see them saved so much that it hurt. "But I don't have to like it."

"No, baby, you don't. And if you didn't care, I wouldn't love you half as much," he kissed her forehead so tenderly, she couldn't help feeling treasured.

"You had better go now," she said, watching the pattern of firelight dance across his chest. Despite their hope and their prayers, this might be the last time they saw each other this side of heaven. Either one of them could die in this escapade. She pulled him close, mingling tears with a lengthy kiss.

"Hey," he said, cupping her face, when they parted. "This ain't goodbye. We'll be married in a church before the week's out unless you still want to get married the Comanche way. I'm ready and willing."

She chuckled. His stab at humor was just what she needed right now. "Tempting, but I don't want any doubts about whether we were married the right way if we're going to be living among our people again. God keep you, Kid."

He gave her hand a squeeze. "He will whatever happens, and if I didn't know He was looking out for you too, wild horses couldn't drag me from your side."

He gave her one more kiss before he went out into the night, and she prayed for a cloak of invisibility to be wrapped around him and for help in stalling when morning came because if they made it through the next twenty-four hours, it would be by the Lord's hand.


	20. Chapter 20

Ruth sat, rubbing the peace pipe with her thumb as she prayed for Kid's safety until she was sure she'd created a small groove in it and cracks of light had began to filter in from the top of the tipi.

"I am coming in," Quanna called out a few seconds before she did. It was a fair announcement given that it was her home. She had to find out sooner or later.

She blinked slowly and looked around. "Where is he?"

"He went out to bring us breakfast." She normally didn't condone lying, but she had to buy him as much time as possible.

She stared at her for the longest time. Was she really such a bad liar that she saw right through her? She left again without a word, and she knew it was bad news. She willed herself to stay in the tent. If she acted calm and like nothing was wrong, maybe they'd believe it too.

The flap burst open a few minutes later, spilling in the sunshine once more. It was Pahayoko, and he was seething. She winced, as he again used her hair like handles. She couldn't wait until she could pin her hair into a bun again. Long hair was a liability.

"He is gone, and you know it," he accused, his face so close, she could smell the fish he'd eaten recently on his breath.

"He ain't gone. He is just out in the woods finding something to eat. He'll be back."

He snarled and showed his teeth. "You are trouble. Should have took you and killed you the night I find you." He released her, but not before tying her up with strips of rawhide. He tied her so tightly the leather bit into her skin and the slightest movement caused her pain. Then he left as suddenly as he came, leaving no doubt Quanna had alerted the tribe that Kid was missing.

sss

Ruth couldn't see how high the sun had risen from inside the tipi, but she felt it must be near noon. She didn't worry for her own fate as much as she kept envisioning horrible scenes as they caught up with Kid. It was then more than anytime in her life she had to trust God, not only with her life, which she did, but the life of the man she loved.

When light again spilled into the tipi, blinding her because of the many hours she'd spent in the dark, she had to look away, but she heard every word Quanna spoke to her.

"The chiefs are in council, deciding what to do with you. They know he will return with more men. They will either kill you in front of them when they come for you, kill you now, or cut off a valuable part of your body should they decide you will continue to live as one of us, so you won't think of escape or helping another escape again. But you will not go unpunished."

She shuddered. There was no option that didn't end in death or bodily harm. She had known she wasn't Quanna's favorite person, but she hadn't thought the woman the type to come and gloat.

She squeezed her eyes shut as Quanna touched her ropes, no doubt intending to make sure they were still tight. Her wounds burned like fire as the leather rubbed against the now raw skin.

But when she opened her eyes, she saw that the strips of rawhide were now laying on the ground. Her mouth dropped as she looked up. Quannna had slashed her roped with a sharp knife.

"It is not because I like you," she said as stone-faced as she always was.

She couldn't hold back a smile despite the dire circumstances "No, I never dreamed that."

"It is because crazy white woman that you are, you would do the same for me." It was the closest Quanna had ever come to paying her a compliment.

She was reminded then that you reaped what you sowed. "Thank you."

Quanna wasn't interested in the gratitude. "Run. You may die yet, but at least, your blood won't be on my hands. And for your sake, I hope your God is real. You will need Him."

It wasn't the plan to run, but even the nicest choice if she stayed wasn't that nice. She liked all her body parts.

Quanna used her knife to slit the tipi open in the back, and Ruth escaped quietly.

She hoped to catch Kid and the men in the woods, maybe avoiding an all-out battle though she knew that they would have to do something, since the Comanche were out to kill, rape, and kidnap more of the settlers. Maybe now more than ever the Comanche would be bent on revenge, since she and Kid had escaped.

"God spare Quanna if they are attacked like Rehab was spared in the Jericho wall for helping your people. Spare us all."


	21. Chapter 21

The burrs stuck in Ruth's skirt and moccasins. If she'd been wearing her calico dress, it would have been shred all to pieces by now. Leather was practical in that way. She didn't even take the time to pull them off though as she didn't even feel them. She continued to plow through the woods.

Really she had no idea where she was going. She had a general idea that she was going in the right direction but no certainty.

Finally she allowed herself the luxury of sitting on a fallen tree to catch her breath. Her mouth was parched, but she hadn't even had the time to grab any water. She hoped she would run across a stream soon.

She had no sooner stood up with the plan to keep moving when she heard a large group of horses coming her way. She couldn't be sure if it was the Comanche or the Rangers.

She thought momentarily about climbing a tree, but she hadn't climbed trees since she was a kid, so she wasn't sure if she could do it now. Instead, she picked the thickest tree trunk, and hid behind it, praying it wasn't the Comanche, and if it was, that she would be invisible and soundless. She had no doubt they would slaughter her on sight now that she'd run. She had never been so scared for her own life unless it was that first night the Comanche had rode into her life.

A quick peak when they came into view revealed that it was Rangers along with a hodgepodge crew of homesteaders.

With a sigh of relief, she stepped out from behind the tree. Kid saw her first. "Ruth!"

Her walk turned into a run despite her exhaustion. She noticed he hadn't even taken the time to put on a shirt as she fell against his bare chest, so quickly had he made his return.

He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head rather than her lips because of their audience. "Are you alright, sweetheart? I was so worried."

"Fine, but I'd be better if this was all over." She let go of him and turned toward the other men. "One of the women saved my life. She's in the tipi with the eye. Please, show mercy like she did."

"Ma'am," the one who seemed to be the leader said, "it's a war. I can't promise the innocent won't get hurt in the crossfire."

Kid helped her up onto his borrowed horse. She was thankful her sore feet wouldn't do anymore walking for awhile. It also meant she had to hold onto Kid's waist, but she really didn't mind though it made her blush a little at the outset.

He looked back at the direction he'd just come from, but he pointed the horse in the direction she'd come from. "I wish we were going the other way, but we're safer in a group."

"I don't wish it. I can't really explain why. I know it hasn't worked out the way I wanted it to, and I can no longer live as one of them, but I still have such a burden on my heart for these people. If we're there, maybe we can talk the others into just taking the men to stand trial and avoid a slaughter."

"You're a better person than I am. I'd just as soon be done with the whole lot of them. Honestly, honey, I don't know if capturing would be better. The women are just as warlike and liable to seek revenge. The children would grow up wanting to retaliate."

"Maybe you're right. In that case, I hope they're gone when we get there."

One of the Rangers had overheard. "If they'll surrender, we might show compassion enough to give them a trial before they're hung, but I don't see the Comanche surrendering, at least not without a fight, do you?"

She didn't.

"We can't waste anymore time," the leader said, lifting his reins and pressing onward.

"I can't watch," Ruth said, closing her eyes and burying her head against Kid's back as they moved to follow.

He patted her hands. "I know. I'll pray we don't have to, but think of the lives that will be saved if we get to them before the moon comes up. They don't always take women and children captive."

"I'm well aware of how they are, and I guess you're right. I have to look at it in terms of lives saved, but I won't stop praying for a good outcome."

They rode the rest of the afternoon. It was evening before they got to camp, but the tipis were gone, and so was everything and everyone else. Only banked campfires and horse dung showed that this had been an active site this morning.

A few of the men went to scout in the surrounding woods, in case they were hiding.

"Are you sure this is where they were last encamped?" said the lead Ranger.

"Yes," Kid and Ruth answered in unison.

"Looks like you got your wish, ma'am.," he said, his horse snorting with the frustration his master mush have felt.

Ruth couldn't help feeling relieved that both the settlers and Indians were safe, at least for now. And she couldn't stop hoping that one day there would be peace and that it would be the peace that Christ brought.


	22. Chapter 22

Kid and Ruth wasted little time in planning a wedding on their return to their own society, and the local town pitched in, providing them everything from regular, or at least their native, clothing to food for the party afterwards in gratitude for the warning and probable saving of their lives.

Kid could hardly believe his eyes when he saw his bride come down the aisle. She had washed the black out of her hair, leaving it the pretty shade of auburn he remembered, and it was styled attractively on top of her head. It also marked the first time he had seen her in a dress down to her ankles that bellowed out like a beautiful bell.

A person couldn't tell that only a couple days prior she'd been an Indian maid. In fact, they'd come within a hair's breadth of an Indian wedding, or rather lack thereof. Nonetheless, they were here in a church reciting vows in the Celtic way.

"I, Kid Cole, in the name of the spirit of God that resides within us all, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take thee, Ruth McKenzie, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one." He thought he might stumble over the vow but looking into her tender gaze, the words came easy. "To desire thee and be desired by thee, to possess thee, and be possessed by thee, without sin or shame, for naught can exist in the purity of my love for thee. I promise to love thee wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond, where we shall meet, remember, and love again. I shall not seek to change thee in any way. I shall respect thee, thy beliefs, thy people, and thy ways as I respect myself." And he did mean every words. Her beliefs were his beliefs. And if things had worked out and she'd wanted to remain Comanche, he would have been Comanche with her.

"I, Ruth McKenzie, in the name of the spirit of God that resides within us all, by the life that courses within my blood, and the love that resides within my heart, take thee, Kid Cole, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit to be my chosen one. To desire and be desired by thee, to possess thee, and be possessed by thee, without sin or shame, for naught can exist in the purity of my love for thee." She was completely confident as she said this part of the vow. Where once their coming together might have caused her shame, she knew their union would be and was already blessed by God. "I promise to love thee wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond, where we shall meet, remember, and love again. I shall not seek to change thee in any way. I shall respect thee, thy beliefs, thy people, and thy ways as I respect myself."

Some might have kissed after the minister announced their now wedded state to seal the marriage covenant, but they had decided on a different approach the day before. They had both wanted to pay homage to how they'd met. They hadn't chosen anything so scandalous as wearing their Comanche garments, but she carried the peace pipe he had made her in her pocket, and she withdrew it now.

He put the stem in his mouth and drew in an imaginary puff of smoke. With a smile, he passed it to her, "Peace."

With an answering smile, she took her imaginary puff. "Peace."

There was the sound of applause, and they moved the wedding celebration from the church to a nearby barn.

The interior had been decked out grandly for the occasion, a freshly swept floor and so many flowers one might have thought they were in a greenhouse. Dancers were already taking to the floor.

"Thank ya'll so much," she addressed them. "We are so grateful for all you've done to make this a memorable day for us."

There was applauds and cheers before the music began and the celebration really got underway. After mingling with some of the women while Kid mingled with the men, she found Kid sitting near the refreshment table.

She watched for a moment as he sat, tapping his toes. She could scare believe he was really her husband so newly married she was, and they'd had to overcome so much. She grinned as she came up to him. "Would you care to dance, good sir?"

"I'm more of a musician than a dancer, but with you, I'd try anything." He stood and took her hands and led her to the dance floor.

She quickly found he was not being modest when he said he wasn't a dancer, but she didn't care. They just held each other and swayed to the soft, slow music.

The music switched to a lively number, and their dance steps changed to him galloping about the space with her. She laughed so hard with him that her sides felt like they were about to split. She really couldn't remember ever having so much fun.

When the song ended, he went to get them some punch as they'd both gotten sweaty from the gallivanting that had probably made them a spectacle that would be talked about for some time to come.

She listened closer to the fiddler while she stood there. The man could have graced the halls of any music hall in the country despite his grizzled appearance so great was his playing. She suddenly felt a little suffocated and more in need of air than drink, so she stepped outside for a moment.

Kid found her leaning against the outside wall, gazing up the moon and stars.

"White civilization too much for you now or you just holding up the barn?" he teased as he set the cups of punch on a nearby stump and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Thinking of running away to rejoin the tribe?"

She rested the back of her head against his chest. "No, but I do wonder how they are." She'd heard rumor that the Comanche had fled Texas. "I wanted so bad for just one soul to be saved. I felt so called by God to be there. I guess feelings can be wrong."

"What if you weren't there to save a Comanche soul but to save mine?"

Why hadn't she seen it? God had sent her to save him, not the Indians, and when she'd accomplished her purpose, He'd seen fit to remove her. "You're right. Of course, you're right. I just pray salvation comes to them one day."

"I know, and that's why I love you. Most people would only see them as the enemy after all the cruel things they've done, especially after they wanted to kill us."

"There is no such thing as the enemy when it comes to human beings. There are only people in need of God's love and grace."

"Love thine enemy," he said, repeating Jesus' words. The simple words were carried away on the wind under a Comanche moon.

The End

A/N: Missionaries did come to the Comanche. Post Oak was founded in 1895 and existed as a mission among the tribe until it became a Mennonite Brethren Church in 1959. One of the missionaries, Magdalena Becker, learned to speak the Comanche language fluently, and it was her love for the native women and her working alongside them that opened doors into their society and showed them the love Jesus had for them. Magdalena was called the "kind white mother" by the Comanche, and both young and old came to Christ.


End file.
